


Boxing Day

by ainagren



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: Boxing Day, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 06:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainagren/pseuds/ainagren
Summary: Christmas Carolight fluff for the prompt "Your lips are warm", absolute nonsense with Dwight and Caroline strolling and talking (and kissing) in the Killewarren park on Boxing Day of their first Christmas as officially wed. Also published on Tumblr.





	Boxing Day

They take a stroll in the park of Killewarren this Boxing Day afternoon. The faint sun is shining through a veil of clouds, and the ground and the trees are covered with a thin layer of frost, giving everything a luster of glistening crystals and that certain quietness that comes with the chill. Caroline is holding Dwight’s arm, and they wander slowly, not so much for the exercise as for the breath of air and the glimpse of daylight, before going back into the dark halls of the grand estate, albeit lit up with hundreds of candles as always during the holidays.

“What were your Christmases like when you were a child?” Caroline asks.

She is wearing a bright red winter outfit with a white fur collar, and a matching hat, as well as the healthy colour of her cheeks, and her eyes are glistening in competition with the frost that is crunching under their feet as they walk. Dwight glances at her from the side, swiftly meeting her eyes, which rewards him one of her glorious smiles, and he mirrors it unconsciously.

“Nothing like this one”, he says, and she frowns a little. He clears his throat. “We would have a nice Christmas pudding, and my father, bless him, would hang a Christmas bell over the entrance to the hall, and then he would forget it, so every time he entered he would hit it with his head.”

He chuckles, and Caroline joins in with a hearty laughter. Encouraged, Dwight continues:

“And then he would say, ‘Oh, the Christmas bells are ringing’.” He shakes his head and pinches his nose, feeling a sudden hint of loss. “What about you, what were your Christmases like?”

She looks down at her feet as they keep strolling, and sighs.

“When my mother was still alive, I remember she would make me a sweet bread for Christmas”, she says in a soft voice, one that Dwight has heard only a few times before.

She is usually so sure of herself, and often teasing, but he loves it when she is talking like this, sharing a confidence with him alone, and he brings his hand to her hand that is resting on his arm. She looks at him and smiles.

“She would save it for Christmas Day”, she continues. “It was the shape of a man, with raisins for eyes. On Christmas Eve, when I had gone to bed, she would wrap it up in a clean cloth and tie a ribbon around it, and put it in a basket, and when she thought that I was asleep, she would come into the bedroom and put it beside my bed.”

“And were you asleep?”

“I don’t remember”, she says. “I remember that I tried to stay awake.”

“And then? After she died?”

Caroline nods and gazes towards the trees, rising towards the grey skies beyond the walls of the Killewarren park.

“Everything changed, of course”, she says. 

She goes silent, and he waits a little while to see if she is going to continue. When she doesn’t, he clears his throat again.

“What was Christmas at Killewarren like?”

She makes an indefinite gesture.

“Uncle Ray would buy me marzipan and a new fancy dress every year”, she says. “And pretty ribbons, and shoe laces. And oranges”, she adds, throwing him a glance and a cunning smile.

He chuckles quietly at their own history, enjoying the intimacy of sharing memories.

“But no bread man?” he says.

“But no bread man”, she repeats quietly. “And no mother’s kisses.”

She bats her eyelashes a few times extra, and Dwight pats her hand on his arm again.

“When you become a mother”, he says, “do you think that you will take up the bread man tradition again?”

She sniffs.

“Ha”, she says. “I don’t even know how to bake!”

“Perhaps Demelza could teach you?” he suggests.

Caroline tilts her head back and forth a little, making her big hat sway and touch the brim of his, as if she doesn’t even consider the suggestion, and answers shortly:

“Perhaps so.”

“Or”, he says after a short moment of silence, “oranges will be our own family tradition.”

He stops and turns towards her, and she is giving him a questioning glance and a smile.

“That day when I came to thank you, remember”, he begins, and she interrupts him:

“Of course, I remember!”

“I wanted to kiss you so much that I felt a physical pain when I couldn’t do it”, he smiles.

She smiles a little wider, and leans closer to him.

“Poor Dwight”, she says, and puts her gloved hand to his cheek.

He puts his arms around her and draws her closer, skilfully avoiding to collide their hats. Then he changes his mind, and takes his hat off, so that he can lean in under her brim and reach her lips with his. It is a soft and sweet kiss, just as sweet as the very first one they ever shared, further down the same lane but on the other side of the wall, and though they have shared many a kiss since then, he feels the same deep thrill within.

When he withdraws, they keep their eyes locked, both smiling lovingly, and he says quietly:

“Your lips are warm.” 

“But your nose is cold as an icicle”, she says, and they both giggle. “I think it is time to go back inside.”

He takes a deep breath, still smiling.

“At what time are Ross and Demelza coming?” he asks.

“At seven”, she says. “Why?”

“Just wondering”, he says, as he leans in and kisses her again.


End file.
